


Unprodigal Daughter

by beautifuldreamer11



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Inspired by Music, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25705297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifuldreamer11/pseuds/beautifuldreamer11
Summary: Annabelle Wagner is a Soc, surrounded by people with money and success, but don't for a second think she enjoys it. Her overbearing mother and persistent sadness make her life a living hell. After a lifetime of feeling trapped on the West side, a series of unlikely events leads her to right into the lives of notorious hood Dallas Winston and his gang. Now her life can begin.
Relationships: Dallas Winston/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

"Annabelle!"

Upon hearing her mother call through her bedroom door, Annabelle Wagner rolled her eyes. She sat up in the middle of her bedroom floor, where she had been sprawled out just a second before.

"Annabelle! For the love of God, turn that garbage off! It isn't good for any of us."

Dammit. Standing up indignantly, she walked over to the record player in the corner of the room. She thought she had been playing the music quietly enough that her mother wouldn't hear, but apparently not. She turned the volume down as low as possible, ensuring that only she could hear The Kinks' “You Really Got Me” floating through the air. The record was one of her favorites, much to her mother's disdain. All was well and good when she'd loved the same teeny-boppers as all the other girls her age, but once she'd discovered rock and roll, she'd practically been accused of delinquency. Of course, that wasn't the only reason.

She was pulled from the trance of the music by a loud, aggravated knock on her bedroom door. Groaning internally, she pulled the needle from her record player and opened the door only as much as she had to.

"Look at you! Do you see what time it is? We're going to be late." Judy Wagner pushed the door open and burst into the room like a whirlwind. A very put-together, well-to-do whirlwind. Annabelle looked at her mother's sensible outfit with her sensible shoes, her dark brown hair oh-so sensibly pulled into an updo. Just the sight of it exhausted her.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, the girl replied, "Mrs. Callahan said lunch wasn't starting until eleven."

"That isn't even an hour from now, Annabelle. We can't just be on time. We have to be early, and Lord knows you've been lazing around this room enough lately. You need to get up and get out."

"Okay," Annabelle mumbled, bunching the skirt of her nightgown in her fists. Before she knew it, she was looking down at her hands and nervously picking at her cuticles.

Judy reached out and grabbed her daughter's hands. In any other circumstance, it would've been seen as a loving gesture, but for Annabelle, it felt the opposite. Her stomach sank even further as her mother gave her hands a squeeze and looked at her with a smile.

"Wear the blue dress. The new one. And remember, wear-"

"A sweater. I know."

As the woman closed the door behind her, Annabelle fought the tightness in her chest. It was a familiar feeling, and nothing brought it out more than her mother's demands. She flopped down on her bed, wishing like hell that she didn't have to get up. Her bones felt heavy. Her head felt heavy. Her eyelids felt heavy. Everything was much too heavy.

* * *

"What are you doing?!"

The girl bolted upright. Shit. She'd fallen asleep. She was in for it now. How much time had passed? According to the clock, it had only been about fifteen minutes, but Judy's reaction made it seem like longer. Her eyelids drooped as the sound of her closet being opened invaded her ears. Her mother practically ripped the pale blue dress off the hanger before shoving it into her hands.

"Get dressed and get yourself put together. Now."

This time, Annabelle had no choice but to obey. Once her mother left her room for the second time that morning, she wearily pulled her nightgown off over her head, slipping on the dress and some heels. She truly despised wearing heels, but she had no other choice. Her mother had made her get rid of all but one of her pairs of flat shoes not long after she graduated high school. Girls wore Mary Janes, Judy had said. Women wore heels. It had been over a year since then, and so far, she didn't like being a woman one bit.

That particular thought gnawed at her as she did her hair and makeup at the vanity. She certainly didn't feel like an adult. In fact, it was possible she had less freedom as an adult than she'd had when she was in school. At least then she'd had a good six hours away from her mother every day, even if she did spend quite a few of those hours hiding in the bathroom. The heaviness in her bones weighed her down as she thought about her high school days.

Now she felt more like her mother's doll than she ever had. Life was an endless stream of garden parties and bridge games, cleaning the house and cooking. Whatever Judy did, she brought Annabelle right along with her. The teen had shown no desire to go to college after barely limping her way through high school, and her parents hadn't argued. They believed the only reason a young woman would go to college was to meet a husband, and they had other ways of making sure that happened, like that day's lunch, for instance. All she needed was her mother's guidance, and that's what she received damn near 24 hours a day.

Her hair and makeup complete, Annabelle gave herself a final once-over. She had expertly covered the bags under her eyes, which had persisted despite her sleeping at every opportunity. Her rosy pink lipstick perfectly complemented her skin tone, and her hair was just so. Everyone had always said that her hair looked exactly like her mother's. They both had dark brown tresses so thick that the women at the salon said they would never have to worry about it thinning out. It was beautiful, but the older the teenager got, the more she resented it.

Annabelle pulled herself from the mirror and had almost made it out of her bedroom before stopping in her tracks. Turning back, she pulled a simple white cardigan from her closet and made her way downstairs, wishing she didn't have to go to lunch that day.

* * *

Annabelle sat in the passenger seat of the car, numbly looking out the window as Lorraine's loomed up ahead.

"Well, here we are," Judy said as she put the car in park.

Lorraine's was the go-to lunch spot for every housewife on the West side of town. The food was good enough, but a person could only eat so much soup and salad and tiny little sandwiches. As the two walked into the restaurant, Judy provided her daughter with her familiar motherly advice.

"Now remember, don't order anything heavy. No elbows on the table. Sit up straight. Small bites. You are very lucky that we were able to get the time for you and David to meet while he's home from school, and no man wants a girl without any manners."

Annabelle nodded, lips pursed, fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of her cardigan.

"Annabelle, am I understood?"

"I nodded."

Her mother glanced at her, annoyance flashing in her eyes. "Speak to me when I speak to you, Annabelle. That's how people do things."

"Okay."

She really wasn't in the mood to speak to anyone at all. She didn't care about David Callahan, the boy she'd met less than a handful of times when they were only kids, or his mother. She didn't care about eating light or sitting up straight. She wanted to be at home in bed, and tears pricked her eyes at the thought. Quickly blinking them away, she forced a smile as she approached the table where Mrs. Callahan and David were seated.

"Judy, Annabelle. How great to see you! It's been ages, hasn't it?"

"It really has. How was your Thanksgiving? Ours was just lovely." Judy replied, and the two set off making small talk.

Mrs. Callahan was even more put-together than Annabelle's mother. Her clothes were just a little nicer, her hair just a little more elegant. It made sense, seeing as she was married to her father's boss, but the opulence made the teen's stomach turn. Didn't these women ever get tired of lording their wealth over each other, of doing everything they could do to look and live better than everyone around them? Didn't they get tired of pretending their shit didn't stink? Her very bones ached as she sat down next to David.

"Annabelle, do you remember my son, David? You two made quite the little couple at company picnics way back when."

"Yeah, sure. Hi," she replied softly.

David flashed her a pearly white smile. "Hi."

He was good looking, she'd give him that. His eyes were a gentle kind of green, and his sandy blond hair was perfectly gelled, not one out of place. He was a classic, all-American boy. The scent of expensive cologne wafted towards her, and even though it smelled good, she had to fight to keep from wrinkling her nose.

"He's been hard at work at Northeastern University. Truth be told, I wish he was closer than Boston, but it really is an excellent school." Mrs. Callahan smiled wide, eager to show off her son's credentials.

Boston. Annabelle could only imagine living in Boston, or anywhere besides Tulsa, Oklahoma. Her family made trips to their home in New York every summer, but other than that, she'd rarely left town. She'd certainly never been anywhere without her parents. Every moment of her life had been spent under her mother's watchful eye and her father's stern indifference.

She was pulled from her thoughts as the waitress came to take their orders. Feeling her mother's eyes on her as her turn arrived, she ordered a salad and averted her gaze.

Annabelle spent the rest of the meal in a state of disconnect. Snippets of conversation flew in one ear and out the other, the words barely registering in her brain.

"You have a son, don't you? What's he up to these days?"

"Oh, George lives in Oklahoma City now with his wife and their new baby."

Her brother was the family golden child--25 years old, successful, and content. He was better to her than her parents were, but he was exactly what they had always wanted him to be, a feat she would never accomplish.

Her salad tasted like paper in her mouth, and each swallow felt stuck in her throat on the way down. She poked and prodded at the leaves with her fork as her stomach churned. Then, she heard the words that made it drop.

"And your mother, how is she doing? I remember seeing her at a few company picnics as well."

A chill radiated through Annabelle's body.

"Unfortunately, she passed away about ten years ago."

"Twelve." Everyone at the table turned to look at Annabelle as she spoke for the first time since greeting David nearly an hour earlier. "It was twelve years ago."

"That's such a shame. I imagine that was hard, since she lived with you and all. Do you miss your grandmother, dear?" Mrs. Callahan used the same proper, matter-of-fact, almost lifeless voice that her mother did. It made her want to scream. How could they be so nonchalant, as if it was a slight inconvenience, a favorite dress being torn or the washing machine breaking?

Did she miss her grandmother? That was damn near the stupidest question she'd ever heard. Grandma Alice was the only person who'd let her wear jeans to run around and play outside. She was the only person who'd sit in front of the record player and listen to music with her, getting up to dance at her favorite songs. She would always crack jokes to get the little girl to stop crying after being yelled at by one of her parents. The woman was sick, and would often be stuck bedridden for weeks at a time. However, when she was able to be up and about, she was never far from her granddaughter's side. In a world where everyone made Annabelle feel too loud, too wild, wrong, bad, and out-of-place, Grandma Alice was her one true solace. No one else had ever made her feel like she was perfect just the way she was. When her grandmother finally succumbed to her illness, the seven-year-old was left alone with no choice but to fend for herself.

Annabelle's chest began to tighten, the air unable to fill her lungs. As she fought for breath, her hands trembled, and she felt Mrs. Callahan's expectant gaze on her. She felt like if she stayed in that damn restaurant any longer, she would die.

"Yes," she choked out finally. In a daze, she uttered, "I'm going home now."

She numbly stood up from the table and walked out of the restaurant, paying no mind to her mother's barely contained protests.

* * *

"What is wrong with you?! Just what is wrong with you that you think you can pull a stunt like that?!" Judy nearly screamed at her daughter.

Annabelle had walked out of Lorraine's, and, since her mother wouldn't dare ruin her reputation by doing the same, she had been able to walk all the way home without being followed.

"I'm tired. I was tired."

"Tired? You were tired? He was such a nice boy, Annabelle! He could've been great for you!"

"Well, I sincerely apologize. I know how much you care about what's good for me." The girl's words were cold and dripping with sarcasm.

Annabelle gasped as her mother slapped her across the face, hard. Her stomach twisted and turned, a combination of fear and white-hot anger flowing through her. She balled her hands into fists an attempt to keep them from shaking. Breath short and ragged, she looked up at Judy with an icy glare. She said nothing.

"Go to your room," the woman said, voice shaky, upset but too proud to apologize, "and don't come out until dinner is ready."

No need to tell her twice. Annabelle turned on her heel and bolted up the stairs, not slowing down until she slammed her bedroom door behind her. She collapsed on the floor, bursting into tears. It was bullshit. All of it was pure, utter bullshit. She was trapped, always being scrutinized, never able to just breathe. She was a prisoner in this big, picturesque fucking house. There was no way out.

Shaking profusely, she crawled over to her vanity and stared at herself in the mirror. Her makeup was running, her eyes were puffy and red, and her hair... dear god, her hair. One look at that hair and Annabelle could see her whole future. She would be stuck marrying some nice young man who had a good job but no substance. She would live in a house no different than the one she lived in now. She would pop out a couple of kids, and her whole world would revolve around them as long as she wasn't cooking or cleaning or playing bridge. It would always be the same thing she'd always known. She would never leave Tulsa. There was no way out. She just sat there, tears spilling over as she looked at her hair, at her mother's hair. Annabelle knew she had no choice but to end up exactly like her. No way out.

God that stupid fucking hair. She hated it. She wanted nothing to do with her mother, but she was doomed to wear her mother's hair around on her head every fucking day. No way out. No way out. No way out.

No. Fuck that. She'd just force her way out. Slowly but surely, she opened the vanity drawer and pulled out a pair of scissors.

Snip.

It was like she was outside of her own body.

Snip.

It was too late to stop now.

Snip.

Dark brown hair fell all around her as she snipped away indiscriminately. Before she knew it, the job was done.

Annabelle looked at herself in a daze, buzzing with adrenaline. She couldn't believe what she had done. Glory, she practically looked like a boy, and for a moment, she was filled with dread. Then, slowly, it was replaced with fiery defiance. She didn't care what her mother would say. She didn't care what anyone said. Nothing mattered anymore. There was no more room for keeping up appearances. She smiled grimly at reflection before kneeling beside her bed.

She reached under her mattress and pulled out a joint and a box of matches. Annabelle forced the window open, letting the cool November air in. Still trembling, she lit the joint, stuck her head out the window, and smoked while watching the puffs disappear into the evening sky.

* * *

**A.N. - Hey, y'all. I hope you're excited to see what happens next because I'm really excited to write it. Usually when I write fics, I have a lot of songs in my head that encapsulate what's going on in the story. I figured I would share them all with you, one song that sums up each chapter. This time around, the song is Nobody's Home by Avril Lavigne, hence why the chapter title is Nobody's Home. Anyway, please leave a review if you like what you see so far!**


	2. Chapter 2

Annabelle felt high as a kite and twice as light by the time she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. It was a familiar feeling. She'd started smoking grass in high school after being turned onto it by Eddie Smith, a Soc boy who'd taken a liking to her. Even after turning him down, she continued to buy from him because he got the good stuff straight from the East side. She'd have gone even crazier by now without it.

She lay on her bed with a far-off gleam in her eye. The mattress was so soft, so comfortable, like a cloud. Peace covered her like a warm blanket, and a lazy grin played at her lips. Annabelle knew what was coming. Oh yes, she knew alright. She knew the whole world was about to be torn to bits, and while fear tugged on her insides, she was too far removed from her body to do anything about it. She might as well just enjoy the peace before her bedroom door swung open. The footsteps were getting closer. Time was almost up.

"Annabelle Claudine Wagner!" Judy screeched as she saw the long tendrils of dark brown hair on the floor.

The girl stared back blankly, too afraid to respond but too drugged out to bend to her mother's will. She just laid there, ambivalent and ready to accept her fate. She didn't care if Judy locked her in her bedroom until all her hair grew back. It's not as if she'd miss anyone or anything outside anyway.

"What is the matter with you?! Annabelle, say something! What is wrong with you?!" the woman shook her daughter by the shoulders violently.

"Stop. You're hurting me," came the alarmed response. Being handled so roughly had shocked her back to reality a bit.

"Oh, your hair! Your beautiful hair!"

Annabelle was numb save for the sharp pain of her mother's fingernails digging into her arms. Fingernails shouldn't hurt that bad, should they?

"Let go," she said, voice getting louder as she wrestled out of Judy's grip. She had to get out.

Her mother followed just behind her as she trudged down the stairs, feeling suffocated by the big house with the big staircase and the big living room. She blew past her father, who sat in his big armchair, reading the paper as he always did. She walked straight through to the big kitchen. Everything was so god damn big it made her sick. All the while, the  
dainty yet frantic footsteps of Judy Wagner pursued her.

"Annabelle, please just tell me why you're doing this! Edward! Look what your daughter has done to herself!"

Her father dropped the paper in shock as he glimpsed the hack job that was Annabelle's hair. Without leaving his seat, his stern voice rung out. "Why would you go and do a thing like that? I thought we were through with all this. Just stop with the hysterics so we can have a nice dinner together."  
His words were met with silence, the pregnant kind of silence that hangs in the air and lets you know that something is about to go wrong. Edward Wagner didn't care much for silence. He never tolerated going unnoticed, certainly not by his wife or his daughter.

"Annabelle? Annabelle!" He briskly stood up and made his way to the kitchen. There the girl stood with her back to her mother, staring at the ornate wooden china cabinet. Judy waited nervously, watching for her daughter's next move.

"How much did those plates cost? The ones you keep in there." Annabelle walked forward slowly, heart pounding, bones aching. Opening the cabinet with caution, she ran her fingers along the dozen or so china plates.

"Those are--"

"For special occasions, I know. We haven't had one special enough, though. We've never used these plates. We don't look at them. We don't touch them. Don't you ever get tired of having plates you don't ever use?" Gingerly, she pulled a stack out of the cabinet, setting them down on the countertop.

"Just answer my question. Why are you doing this?" She could hear the desperation in her mother's voice, and for a second, her heart twinged. In her own overbearing way, Judy really did care for her, but it would never be enough.

"I'm tired. Aren't you tired?"

With trembling hands, Annabelle picked up a plate before throwing it to the floor with all her might. Her mother yelped, and her father stiffened, but Annabelle just breathed. The air came to her easier than it had in ages. Her head buzzed, both from the weed and the rush of smashing the china. She grabbed that feeling and held it tight as she reached for a second plate.

"Annabelle, don't you dare!" Judy demanded, though her voice trembled.

In an instant, another plate was gone, and Annabelle could feel a weight being lifted from her. She smashed another and was about to reach for a fourth before her mother rushed forward and grabbed her by the wrists.

"Let go!" she yelled frantically. "Let go of me!" The girl thrashed around in a desperate effort to break free. Then, in a final attempt, she threw all her weight forward, pushing her mother to the glass-covered floor and freeing herself from the woman's grip.

"Stop it! That's enough! Edward, call an ambulance now!"

The words pierced her like shards of glass. Annabelle's blood went cold as her father retreated to the living room to make the call. "No! No!!"

"I don't know what else to do! This isn't right!" came the hopeless reply.

"Look at me!" the girl screeched. "Look at me! Don't just sweep me under the rug and pawn me off! Look! You did this!"

She was truly hysterical now, and the fear in her mother's tear-filled eyes was undeniable. Of course she would be afraid of the very monster she created. What a fucking hypocrite.

They just stared at each other for a while, both crying, both silent. The tension was palpable, and Annabelle's whole body shook as she thought of what her parents were trying to do to her.

"I'm not going back." Her voice was tight, thick with tears, and barely above a whisper. "I won't."

Judy cast her eyes downward as she struggled to gain her composure. That pregnant silence was back again. "Go clean yourself up before they arrive," she replied, struggling to keep her voice steady. She gave her daughter one long look before letting out a stifled sob and rushing to her husband in the living room.  
Annabelle walked past her distraught parents as they hung up the phone. Her mind was racing, but the world was moving slow. As she made her way up the stairs, she heard her mother's voice, clear as day.

"I never would have wanted a second child if I knew she was going to end up exactly like my mother."

What was that supposed to mean, "exactly like my mother"? What was so bad about that? What was so bad about listening to music too loud and laughing and being free? If there was one thing Annabelle knew the value of, it was freedom. She'd spent her whole life having it taken away from her, and she would not stand by and let her parents or some paramedic or anyone take it from her now. She could not go back to that fucking hospital. She refused to go back.

Annabelle made a beeline for her closet as soon as she reached her room, fishing around until she retrieved the pristine leather suitcase from the corner. Once she looked around at her belongings, though, she realized there wasn't much of anything she'd want to take. All of it had been chosen for her. With uneasiness knotting her stomach, the girl grabbed her records and gently placed them in the bag. Next, she reached under her mattress, pulled out her joints and matches, and tossed them in as well. With a hesitant sense of finality, Annabelle closed the suitcase and walked to her vanity. She opened the drawer, grabbed all of the allowance money she had saved up, and shoved it in her dress pocket. Finally, she put on her oxfords and braced her nerves.

It hadn't even been two hours since she opened it last, but as Annabelle opened her window for the second time that day, she felt as though it was a distant memory. She peered out onto the street below to make sure there was no ambulance in sight before climbing out onto the roof, suitcase in hand. It was already dark, and the cool November air nipped at her. Pulling her sweater tighter around her, she crawled over to the edge of the roof where a trellis rose up to meet it. She trembled, partly from cold and partly from fear of being caught, as she began to climb down. The trellis was sturdy as the rungs of a ladder, and before Annabelle knew it, her feet were firmly on the ground.

For a moment, she stood paralyzed. All she'd ever wanted was to get away from her picture perfect life on the West side of Tulsa, so why did she feel unsure about leaving now? Standing there in the dark of night, she couldn't recall ever feeling more afraid. Still, whatever was waiting out there had to be better than life in that house. With heart pounding, she took off down the street, running as fast as her legs would carry her off into the unknown.

* * *

Annabelle's feet dragged as she walked down the barely lit street. She felt a pang of paranoia each time she passed through the glow of a streetlight, even though the chances of anyone she knew being around were slim to none. She didn't know how long she ran, but it felt like she'd gone for miles. Eventually, she had to start walking, but even that was taxing. Her legs felt like they could give out any minute. By some miracle, she'd made it to the East side of town without being seen. It wasn't where she preferred to be, but it was the only place she could go to avoid other Socs.

Exhausted, she all but collapsed on a nearby curb, her suitcase clunking down next to her. It was only then that the reality of the situation set in. She had nowhere to go and no one she could turn to. The loneliness that had hung over her as long as she could remember reared its ugly head and morphed into something she had never truly known--the sick sensation of being completely alone. The darkness suddenly seemed darker, and a chill ran through her as a breeze brushed her newly exposed neck. That was one thing she hadn't thought of when she hacked all her hair off. Not that the decision had come with much thought in the first place.

"Lost, baby?" a voice rang out, causing Annabelle to jump.

She looked up to see three greaser boys, maybe sixteen or so, walking towards her. They were just kids, but she'd been raised to be wary of anyone from the "bad" side of town. Out of pure instinct, she grabbed the handle of her suitcase and held it tight. She anxiously tugged at her sweater and averted her gaze as they approached.

"Well, are you?" the boy prodded, sneering as he sat down next to her on the curb. Annabelle flinched and pointedly scooted away. She kept her eyes cast downward, focusing intensely on her shoelaces.

"Jesus, what happened to your hair? Lose a fight with a lawnmower or something?" Another one of the boys joined in, sitting on the other side of her. She was now sufficiently trapped. Panic began to rise in her chest, and a knot formed in her stomach. She tried desperately to appear unbothered, but she knew she was doing a terrible job. Everything about her radiated fear, and there was nothing Annabelle hated more than letting someone know they had gotten the best of her.

"I can't believe your Soc-y daddy couldn't pay for anything better than that," the third one smirked and grabbed a piece of Annabelle's hair.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt like she could vomit as he touched her. What did these boys want from her? What were they going to do to her? Why did everyone think they could just put her through whatever they wanted? In a rush of panic, frustration, and exhaustion, Annabelle swung her suitcase with all her might and knocked the third boy back. She jumped up as he stumbled and ran down the street as fast as she could. Her legs ached. She could barely breathe from fear and exertion. She could barely see in the  
darkness. She could barely think. Annabelle didn't know if the boys were following her, but the feeling that they were crept up her spine. All she could do was keep running.

**A.N. - Hey, guys! Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. Wild to think about how last time I uploaded a chapter for this story, COVID wasn't even a thought in my mind. Anyway, I'm going to try to update more regularly, but I can't make any promises because of school and such. The song for this chapter is "Unprodigal Daughter" by Alanis Morissette, specifically the version from the musical Jagged Little Pill. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


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